


A Second Or Two

by DictionaryWrites



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Age Difference, Consent Issues, Crying, Daddy Kink, Desperation, Dirty Talk, Do Not Archive (The Magnus Archives), Dom/sub, Hand Jobs, Humiliation, M/M, Mind Control, Rape/Non-con Elements, Size Difference, Sub Martin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-28
Updated: 2019-12-28
Packaged: 2021-04-20 18:47:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,509
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21998227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DictionaryWrites/pseuds/DictionaryWrites
Summary: Elias decides a nap will do Martin the world of good.
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Elias Bouchard
Comments: 16
Kudos: 164
Collections: Rusty Kink





	A Second Or Two

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Kink Meme Prompt](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/545374) by Anonymous. 

“Just because I can’t actually— because I can’t actually _quit_ and walk away doesn’t man I give a _shit_ about what you think, or what you want,” Martin snapped, and on the other side of the break room, Elias watched him with his lips setting into an increasingly thin line. It was only early in the afternoon, but Martin had barely slept at all last night, consumed with thoughts of wherever Jon might be, what he was doing, what, what— “Just— Just _fuck off,_ Elias.”

“I see the weight of the day is getting to you, Martin,” Elias said slowly, deliberately, and Martin slammed his mug too hard down on the counter, grabbing for a tea bag. “You must be so lonely, on days like this, where the Archive is staffed only by you and I.”

“I’d rather be lonelier,” Martin snapped. “_Go away_.”

“You know, Martin, at times, your defiance grates on me.”

“Does it? Good!”

And just like that, Elias was beside him, taking the mug and setting it aside before Martin could reach for the kettle. Martin flinched at having the other man so suddenly beside him, but before he could shout at him, Elias said, “Hush.”

It was like his lips had been shocked. They froze, unmoving, and Elias looked up at him critically – and he very much had to look _up_ at Martin, because Elias was only a little below six feet, and next to Martin he seemed small. Neatly sculpted, yes, but small.

And yet, up close like this, he felt very big indeed.

“As I said,” Elias said, “I do get so _tired_ of all this anger, this fuss from you.” He reached out, picking a piece of imaginary lint from Martin’s X-Files sweatshirt, and then moving to smooth the tops of the sleeves as Martin shivered in his place. “Perhaps you’re just tired, hm? Perhaps all you need is to be laid down for a nap?”

Martin was breathing heavily, rooted to the spot, and Elias actually _smiled_. It was one of Elias’ Elias-ish smiles, of course – small, proper, polite with a jagged edge – and the sight of it made Martin come to himself, take a step back.

“Come, Martin,” Elias said lowly. “Why don’t you lie down on your cot, hm?”

The compulsion curled around him from the base of his spine upward, around and around and making him step forward even though he didn’t want to, toward the cot that was folded out at the side of the room, made up and ready. It was always ready, these days.

“What are you— Let me go,” Martin said, even as he sat down heavily on the edge of the cot, listening to the slight creak of the metal frame under his weight.

“Take your shoes off, Martin,” Elias said sweetly, crossing his arms over his chest and watching Martin expectantly, his lips quirked up into that knife-edge little smirk, his icy eyes smug behind the glasses Martin was fairly certain he only needed to read, but that he wore all the time anyway, presumably for the pleasure of looking over them at you.

Martin’s fingers went to obey without his permission, relying on Elias’ instead: they moved smoothly to undo his laces, and then he slid off each shoe, dropping them neatly aside, heels together.

“Let me go,” he said again.

“Now now,” Elias said. “Daddy is already so disappointed in you, Martin. Can’t you behave?”

The thrill that ran down Martin’s spine was unspeakable, and he shuddered, gritting his teeth.

“Under your blankets, now. Lie down.”

“N— _No!”_ Martin managed to spit out the words through gritted teeth, his whole body aching at the effort it took to resist Elias’ compulsion, and worst of all, heat was pooling under his belly, sinking hot between his quivering legs. He was _hard_, for God’s sake, and it wasn’t fair, because Elias was—

Well, you know what, fine, Elias was hot in a sort of neat, severe older man sort of way, if you liked that sort of thing, which Martin did – in _porn_. In real life? In the Archives, being condescending and arsey and a complete twat about everything, on top of being a murderer? Yeah, he wasn’t _exactly_ Martin’s cup of tea.

“Well, if we _must_ draw this out…” Elias said, tutting quietly and shaking his head. “Clothes off, Martin. Strip down for me, now, there’s a good man.”

Martin’s hands were moving before he could stop them, and he felt like a prisoner in his own body as he drew his sweatshirt over his head and unbuttoned the shirt he was wearing underneath, then moving to undo his jeans, drop them too. Elias pressed a pair of pyjamas into his hands, and Martin swallowed, but his body was still working on autopilot, and he pulled them on.

“There,” Elias said, voice sweet and warm and low. “You can be _so_ well-behaved, when it suits you, can’t you?”

Martin’s cock was really hard, now. There was no avoiding it. Here he was, being put down to sleep by his crazy, eldritch, arsehole boss, and Martin was _hard_.

Of course he was.

“It’s alright,” Elias said comfortingly, except that it wasn’t comforting at all, just a parody of comfort. “Lie down, Martin, be good for me, won’t you? Lie down, and after some rest, you’ll feel _leagues_ better.”

Martin was lying on his back, now, Elias drawing the blankets over him, and Martin shivered as he stared up at him, but Elias was walking away. Not toward the door, not _away_-away, but to the blinds on the windows, bringing them down, and as he did, he talked.

“I oughtn’t be surprised, I suppose,” Elias said. “A young man like you, with such a _predictable_ history… And such a disappointing personal life, hm? Perhaps if you sought out relief more often, Martin, you wouldn’t be so keenly affected now. Or perhaps you would, and I would be more flattered. In any case, you’re being beautifully obedient for me now – perhaps I ought make a habit of this, should I? Put you down for your afternoon sleep, and see how your mood improves.”

Martin shivered. His eyes were _burning_ with humiliation, but he wouldn’t cry, he wouldn’t, wouldn’t give Elias the satisfaction as the room went dark. He heard Elias step closer to him, heard his laugh.

“Look how hard you are,” he said, straddling the line between affectionate and condescending, making Martin’s whole body shudder. “If you’re a _terribly_ good boy for Daddy, Martin, perhaps I might alleviate that for you.”

Martin’s eyes watered. The hot burn at the corners gave way to fat tears that slid down his cheeks, and Elias chuckled as he settled on the bed beside him, cupping him through the blankets and making Martin’s hips jump. He moaned without meaning to, without wanting to, and Elias laughed.

“There we are,” he murmured. “Is this what I need to do to get you to rest, hm? To play with this sweet little prick of yours until you come?”

“_Go away,”_ Martin whimpered, and Elias sighed.

“Is that any way to speak to me, Martin? I’m caring for you, aren’t I?”

His hand slipped under the blankets, now, trailing over Martin’s belly and then under the waistband of his pyjama bottoms, curling around his cock in aa smooth, singular movement. Martin swallowed the noise he wanted to make, his hips jumping up into Elias’ hand.

“Be a good boy for Daddy,” Elias whispered, staring into Martin’s eyes. “Look at how prettily you cry, Martin. Be a good boy for me – let me stroke this fat little prick of yours, and then we’ll see you sleep, hm?”

Martin’s cheeks were burning hot, and he couldn’t believe this was happening, hated it, wanted more, wanted _more_. Elias’ hand was smooth and easy and dexterous on his cock, squeezing as he stroked Martin’s shaft up and down, his thumb dragging over the leaking head. More tears slid down his cheeks, and he whimpered even as he thrust up for more.

“You’re going to be good for me, aren’t you, Martin? Why don’t you let me see you come? Why don’t you come for Daddy?”

Martin heaved in a gasp, sobbing, shaking his head, but Elias’ compulsion was sliding all over him, _into_ him, curling and curving around him, and his hand was moving faster now. It didn’t matter that Martin was humiliated, that he was crying, only that Elias was touching him, that Elias was looking at him, _watching_ him—

Martin came with a choked, stammered noise.

“Good _boy_,” Elias purred, and he wiped off his hand and Martin with a cloth that came from nowhere, bringing the blankets up to his chin and _tucking him in_, and Martin sobbed. Elias’ chuckle sounded low in his ears as Elias ran a gentle hand through his hair, smiling. “Time to sleep, now. That’s it, Martin, close your eyes…”

He actually did feel better, after he slept.

For a second or two, anyway.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading! Feel free to hit up [my ask on Tumblr.](http://patricianandclerk.tumblr.com/ask) Requests open.
> 
> I have a Magnus Archives discord! [Join here!](https://discord.gg/c9aZWDz)


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